


Aggressive Plays

by gwennolmarie



Series: Face Cards [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Idiots in Love, Other, Play Fighting, Pre-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Oral Sex, Sharing a Bed, Tent Sex, Trans Character, non binary john marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: The older man lays back lazily, a small smile pulling his lips, eyes alight with amusement.John’s heart aches with happiness… Love... and then doubt, the feeling sharpening.





	Aggressive Plays

John was in a foul mood, that much Arthur knew for sure.

For as much as they teased the kid for being a brat… John tended to clam up when things were really bugging him.

It manifested in subtle ways, the specific tense of John’s shoulder, the way he kept his hair messy and hiding his face.

The way the younger picked at his food and only smiled briefly at things he would normally be in stitches over.

And the worst part is that Arthur’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s noticed.

John’s currently folded up on a stump, lanky arms on either side of lankier legs as he carefully carves a small shape of wood.

Arthur flips his pencil over and taps the butt end against the page of his journal, watching the frustrated twist to John’s face as the younger angles his carving towards the firelight.

“Careful you don’t go’n cut your finger, now,” Arthur says quietly.

John’s face smooths and the younger sighs quietly.

“Okay,” John mutters and crosses his legs, curling his upper body over his lap.

Arthur purses his lips with a frown.

He was hoping for a more ‘John’ reaction.

Hoping the younger would tell him to shut up or bitch about Arthur not having any faith in his abilities…

Anything but _‘okay’._

Arthur itches his nose and goes back to writing about his day.

But he can’t seem to get more than a few words down at a time before he’s looking up at John’s expression slowly returning to it’s scrunched up state.

“Hey, John,” Arthur says.

And his suspicion is proved right, that John was hiding something, when the younger’s face goes carefully blank again and John glances up at him through tangled hair.

“You wanna ride out with me tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Need to go get these fixed,” Arthur says, lifting his right foot up along with the broken heel of his boot.

“... And you want me to come?”

“Know it’s been slow lately,” Arthur sits back and closes his journal, “Know that never sits well with you.”

“Yeah,” John whispers, finally meeting his eyes, “I’d like that.”

\--

Arthur gets both their horses ready to go before he slips into John’s tent.

He crouches next to the lump buried under furs and wool blankets.

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs, poking the lump, “C’mon, let’s head out.”

The lump shifts and writhes before a hand surfaces, followed by John’s sleepy face.

“Arthur?” The younger mumbles, rubbing his face.

“Yeah,” Arthur reaches out and taps his finger on the crown of John’s head, “You still wanna come?”

“Oh!”

John’s face disappears and, after some more wriggling, all of the layers of covers are lifted and shoved to the side.

John wobbles once he gets on his feet, from moving too quickly, and Arthur watches in amusement as the younger struggles to stay balanced while pulling on layers of clothes.

“Just gimme a minute to get Ol’ Boy tacked,” John says as he yanks on his boots.

“He’s all ready,” Arthur says and grabs John’s hat to plop it on the younger’s head.

John pops up and stomps his boot into place smiling genuinely.

The first big smile Arthur’s seen in weeks.

“Thanks, Arthur,” John says with a nod before grabbing his satchel, opening it and checking for something, closing the flap when he’s satisfied.

Following Arthur to mount their horses.

\--

Their conversation is minimal as the sun makes its way high into the sky.

They reach the cobbler’s shop around noon and hang out on the porch in front, sharing a jar of strawberries in comfortable silence.

It only takes a few hours for Arthur’s boot to be fixed and then they’re on their mounts again.

But Arthur isn’t taking them home.

John stays quiet, but he’d looked at the map before they headed out this morning and he knows for a fact that this path doesn’t lead home.

\--

They come to a sloping trail, hugging the side of the mossy hill.

Arthur encourages Bo’ quietly and Old Boy follows easily.

“Arthur?” John finally asks, no longer able to hold his tongue.

“Nice little waterin’ hole down here,” Arthur says as an answer.

Though it doesn’t answer _why_ they’re way out here.

\--

It’s a genuinely breathtaking scene.

John can’t stop glancing over his shoulder at everything as he gets Old Boy hitched in the middle of a grassy patch.

“How the hell’d you find this place?”

“Got lost, got lucky,” Arthur says with a shrug.

John raises a skeptical brow then moves towards the pool of water, seeing the thick layer of fog, or maybe steam he isn’t sure, hanging over the surface.

“S’it warm?”

“Very,” Arthur says, toeing off his boots, “Not scaldin’, but I thought it’d feel nice, as damn cold as it’s been lately.”

John watches the older man disrobe, taking a seat on a rock a few feet from the water’s edge.

The sun doesn’t reach this little patch, the pines’ limbs too thick and too plentiful.

It makes the cold bitter, combined with the damp air.

“You not comin’ in?” Arthur asks, down to his drawers.

“I…” John grimaces and squints at the dark water, “How deep s’it?”

“Not that deep on this side, maybe a few feet deeper than our height on the far side, against the rocks, but there are ledges you can sit on.”

John hums, uncertain.

“Well until you decide why don’t you go ‘head and set up the tent?”

“Alright.”

\--

With the tent pitched, a gentle fire burning in one of the few dry patches, and the horses lazing comfortably, John has no excuses left.

He glances up at Arthur, who’s on one of the far ledges, eyes closed, face peaceful.

John yanks off his boots and sheds his layers, tensing against the chill.

The last thing he takes off is the bandana around his neck, and then he sits on the edge and slips into the water.

Arthur looks up at the noise.

“How’s it warm?” John mutters as he gets his feet to touch the rocky bottom.

“You complainin’?”

“Hell no,” John bites out and clings to the edge as he makes his way around to Arthur, feeling his heartbeat rise the further the bottom gets from his toes.

He slips, only a foot from Arthur, and the older man has both hands holding John’s waist in seconds.

Arthur huffs quietly and pulls the younger onto the ledge with him.

“You sure there ain’t fish or somethin’ in here?” John asks breathily as he scoots as far back on the ledge as possible.

“Lemme know if you feel somethin’ nibblin’ your toes,” Arthur jokes, leaning his head back on the rock face behind them and turning to look at John.

The younger rolls his eyes but pulls his legs up onto the ledge with him.

Arthur snorts quietly.

They both fall silent, listening to the faint sounds of water moving deep below the surface, pine needles rustling in the wind, and the occasional pine cone hitting the ground.

“Why’d you bring me here?” John asks quietly.

“You seemed cooped up,” Arthur says with a shrug, “Sad about somethin’.”

“Hm.”

“You ain’t gotta tell me,” Arthur mutters, “But I hate seein’ you like that.”

“Sorry,” John grunts and squeezes the water out of his hair as it starts chilling the back of his neck.

“Don’t mean it like that,” Arthur says softly.

“Still,” John says and turns to look at the older man, “It’s annoyin’ right? Me sulking, that’s what Dutch says.”

“It’s worryin’,” Arthur admits.

John blinks at him in surprise before his face scrunches up and he looks out over the dark water.

“When did Dutch say that?” Arthur asks.

John’s quiet.

“John?”

“It was that last time you went off with Mary.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in confusion.

“What, were you jealous or somethin’?”

“Or somethin’,” John says then stretches his legs back out over the ledge, dangling his feet over the abyss-like bottom.

Arthur’s quiet.

They sit together, as John grows restless under the weight of that small admission.

“What’s that mean, John?” Arthur asks softly.

“You’d never say a bad word ‘bout her but everyone else knows,” John mutters, sighs, and meets Arthur’s eyes, “She even _acknowledges_ you and you run back to her like a damn dog, only to have her kick you out again.”  
  
“It’s more complicated than that,” Arthur argues.

“It is, and it isn’t.”

Arthur’s jaw works angrily, waves of defensiveness building in him.

“She’s never gonna accept _you,_ Art,” John says quietly with a lopsided shrug.

“And maybe she shouldn’t,” Arthur hisses back.

John frowns at him.

“Why would she? Why would she accept a dirty, outlaw bastard like me?” Arthur asks then starts to move away, aiming to swim over to the side with their tent and get out.

John’s hand around his upper arm stops him.

“You ain’t just a _‘dirty outlaw bastard’,_ Morgan,” John says firmly, “You’re a good man, a great marksman, a protector, and a _good friend.”_

Arthur’s shoulders tense further and then slump.

“C’mon, let go,” Arthur grunts, pulling his arm gently out of John’s grip, “Need to tend the fire.”  
  
John pulls his hand back reluctantly.

He watches Arthur’s form cross the expanse of water easily in the dim light.

He scoots to the side of the ledge and works his way around the perimeter to join the older man.

\--

They sit close to the fire to stay warm in just their drawers, chewing on jerky.

“Oh,” John says suddenly and scrambles up to duck into the tent.

Arthur watches curiously, listening to the rustling and muttering inside the tent.

John reappears, gripping something tight in his fist.

He pauses at the entrance to the tent and tosses the item to Arthur.

It’s a little, wooden disc.

“It’s a button,” John says, “I think it’s the right size but I ain’t really sure, since you flat out lost the other one.”

Arthur thinks about his satchel and the missing button as he turns over this new one in his hands.

“You made this?”

“Couldn’t find one the right shape from anywhere else,” John mutters.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Arthur says genuinely.

“You’re… You’re welcome,” John forces out awkwardly, “I’m gonna lay down.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says and looks at the dying fire, “Yeah, me too.”

\--

It’s not the smallest space they’ve shared but it’s not their usual two-man tent.

Arthur hadn’t thought to change his pack after inviting John to come with him.

John burrows under then combined blankets and sticks close to Arthur, unashamed in his effort to stay warm.

Arthur rolls his eyes and slings an arm over the younger’s waist, pulling John back against him.

John hums and wriggles closer to the older man, too tired to care about anything but being comfortable.

“S’that what you were workin’ on last night?” Arthur asks quietly.

“Yeah,” John laughs, “I had to restart the damned thing so many times, kept snappin’ it in half when it got to a certain thickness.”

Arthur’s hand catches on the thick scar tissue on John’s side and the older man pauses, running his thumb along the edge.

John shudders against him, squeezing the blankets closer.

“S’it hurtin’ at all?” Arthur murmurs, not willing to lift the blanket and let in cold air.

“Nah… Just-” John takes a sharp breath in as Arthur’s thumb rubs over the rough edges again.

“You good?” The older man asks hesitantly.

John swallows hard and nods, bending one arm to pillow under his head.

He’s been hyper-aware of Arthur’s touches for a while now, but since their admissions of trust in each other, it’s been so much worse.

He keeps thinking about the older man’s hands in his hair.

Or Arthur on his knees in front of John.

John shifts against the twinge of arousal in his gut and hides his face in his arm.

“Glad it’s all healed up now,” Arthur murmurs, still checking the scar over with his fingers.

“Yeah,” John says hoarsely, “Thanks for savin’ me.”

“Nah, you ain’t gotta…” Arthur mutters and squeezes the younger’s hip, “You ain’t gotta thank me for that.”

“Okay, then thank you for helpin’ me… After.”

Arthur hums in acknowledgment.

“Do you want me to take watch?” John asks softly.

“Nah, way out here?” John feels the older man’s head shake behind him.

“Awful confident, there, Artie,” John jokes, “What would Dutch say?”

Arthur’s hand tightens on his hip and John’s fists clench harder in response.

“He ain’t here,” Arthur mutters, “What happened to trustin’ me?”

John’s lips part in shock and he struggles to turn onto his back, shoulder digging into Arthur’s chest as he looks at the older man incredulously.

“Joke!” Arthur says quickly, “Just a joke, kid, come on.”

John’s nose twitches in irritation and he jabs his elbow into Arthur’s stomach.

The older man grunts quietly, eyes narrowing.

John realizes he’s made a mistake about half-a-second before Arthur’s fingers are attacking his bare stomach and he’s gasping and writhing.

“Ar-Arthur,” John gasps, trying to catch the older man’s wrists, “No, no, I’m sorry.”

Arthur just laughs quietly and they roll together when John tries to squirm away.

“You’ve always had a ticklish belly, never shoulda let me find that out, Johnny,” Arthur murmurs, a grin pulling his lips as John breaks away and pushes Arthur back.

The younger manages to straddle Arthur’s stomach, holding the older man’s hands in his own and trying to catch his breath.

The blankets have fallen off and John shivers in the cold, eyes flicking over Arthur.

The older man lays back lazily, a small smile pulling his lips, eyes alight with amusement.

John’s heart _aches_ with happiness… Love... and then doubt, the feeling sharpening.

He watches Arthur’s content gaze move over his face and then down.

John’s stomach tightens and his toes curl as Arthur looks over his chest, but the older man’s eyes settle on the fresh scar.

“Looks good,” Arthur says and easily breaks one hand out of John’s hold to gently push at the scar with his thumb, the rest of his fingers wrapping around John’s side.

John squirms, shifting back to escape the touch.

Only to feel Arthur’s cock under his ass, making him pause.

Arthur tenses minutely, and his grip on John’s waist tightens.

“S’that…?” John asks, hushed, “Are you…?”

Arthur’s nose scrunches briefly before the older man shrugs half-heartedly.

“Oh,” John murmurs and swallows.

“C’mon, why don’t you go to sleep now,” Arthur offers and nudges John to the side, encouraging the younger to lay back down.

John stays where he is.

“John…”

“Arthur,” The younger says in reply.

“C’mon,” Arthur whispers, sounding a little desperate.

“You know I said I don’t got limits… Do you?” John asks, hushed.

“What are you…” Arthur’s hand flexes on his hip, eyes flicking down John’s body then up to the younger’s eyes, “What are you thinkin’?”

“Want you in my mouth,” John says, “Real bad.”

“Jesus,” Arthur whispers, staring at the younger reverently.

“That okay?”

“I- Yeah,” Arthur chokes out.

John lets go of the older man’s hand to scoot back, gathering the blankets as he goes.

John wedges himself on his belly between Arthur’s thighs as the older man scoots back and props himself up on his elbows.

The younger curls the blankets over his back and watches Arthur as he undoes the buttons on the older man’s drawers.

“Shit,” Arthur bites out as John’s chilled fingers wrap around him and pull him out.

“God,” John mutters, “Never seen you hard before.”

Arthur sucks hard on his teeth as John gets a feel for him, drawing back his foreskin.

The younger meets his eyes as he leans in and takes the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth.

“Shit,” Arthur says again, voice thready.

John uses his other hand to guide one of Arthur’s into his hair, getting the older man to grip the dark strands.

Arthur wraps the hair around his fingers and tugs as John experiments with taking him in deeper.

The younger makes a small sound around him and Arthur’s head falls back with a groan.

John focuses on the pain in his scalp and the heat in his gut and the feeling of Arthur, thick and heavy on his tongue.

He brings his other hand back in and tugs Arthur’s drawers further down so he can run his fingers curiously over the coarse hair covering Arthur’s balls.

The older man’s breathing deepens when John has to shift and swallows around the head of Arthur’s cock where it sits at the beginning of his throat.

The younger flattens his tongue against the underside of Arthur’s length and pulls back messily, threads of saliva running from his tongue to the reddened head.

John squeezes his thighs together and looks up to see Arthur watching him heatedly.

John licks away the saliva and runs his tongue over the head before pulling back slightly.

“Think ‘bout this all the damn time,” John mutters, spreading his saliva over Arthur’s cock so he can stroke his hand over the length.

“Really?” Arthur asks quietly.

John nods, murmuring.

“Want you to fuck my mouth and pull my hair.”

Arthur groans and John feels the older man’s cock jerk in his hand.

John leans back in and gets the head deep enough that it feels like he’s on the brink of choking.

He moves one hand from Arthur’s balls to the older man’s hip, squeezing and urging Arthur to rock up.

The older man curses and bends his legs to dig his heels into the ground, pressing his hips up carefully.

John swallows and swallows, feeling his eyes watering at the sensation, unable to stop the small whimper that slips out.

Arthur’s hand tightens in his hair and the older man starts a gentle rhythm of rocking his hips up.

John’s fingers dig into the meat of Arthur’s hip as he breathes noisily through his nose and encourages the older man with small sounds, half-caught in his throat.

Arthur’s fingers release his hair and run down the side of his face, slipping his thumb in alongside his cock to press down on John’s lower teeth, forcing the younger’s mouth open further as he rolls his hips.

Watching his cock all-but disappear down John’s throat.

John looks up at him hazily, gagging for just a second before swallowing against the sensation and rolling his hips against the ground, feeling his slick leaking out of him.

He sees Arthur’s gaze flick down his body then return to John’s watery eyes.

“Fuck,” Arthur bites out and uses his grip on John’s jaw to push the younger’s head back, his cock slipping almost all the way out, head resting on John’s lower lip.

The younger catches his breath, his grip around Arthur’s base tightening then releasing.

He moves his arm to mirror the other, slung over the older man’s upper thigh and grabbing at Arthur’s hip.

He fights the grip on his jaw and pushes his head forward to take Arthur back into his mouth.

The older man’s chest hitches and he lets go, both hands going to clench against the bedroll beneath them.

John bobs his head at a measured pace, slowing when he feels Arthur staring to jerk involuntarily.

He hums around the older man and takes Arthur’s cock as deep as he can, swallowing hard the whole time before managing to seal his lips and sucking.

“Goddammit,” Arthur gasps, one hand flying to tug at John’s hair, the younger choking and moaning around him, “John, ‘m close.”

John just nods as much as he can, bobbing his head in time with the twitches of Arthur’s hips.

“John, seriously,” Arthur chokes out.

The younger grips Arthur’s hips, digging his nails in.

“Shit,” Arthur bites, gasping as he starts to come, “Oh, shit, John.”

The younger pulls back just enough that Arthur’s come fills his mouth, his gaze locked with the older man’s barely-open eyes.

Arthur groans and moves one hand to steady himself.

John pants through his nose and unseals his lips form around Arthur’s cock, making a mess as the mix of spit and spend drip down the older man’s cock.

“Jesus,” John whispers hoarsely and tilts his head to clean Arthur up thoroughly, slowly dragging his tongue through the mess.

“That’s dirty as all get out, John,” Arthur whispers, making the younger huff a laugh.

“Is it?” John asks teasingly, voice raw, as the younger shakily sits up.

Arthur mutters at the cheek and pulls John into his lap, burying his face in the younger’s neck as they both catch their breath.

 


End file.
